Losing Another Organ in Africa

You know sometimes when you get too exhausted? Like when you’re fighting fighting fighting? If I blink I pass out.

The whole thing started because I wanted to “go on vacation” with my friend. And off we went to the Seychelles. It’s gorgeous, with beaches that look better than any travel brochure could show, and wild cinnamon forests, with pine groves feathering down to tropical turquoise, palm lined beaches. Our hotel was small and exquisite and the food was great.

It was apparently quite a big mistake to go over to La Digue, a more remote island; and supposed to be one of the most beautiful places on earth. No private cars. Completely unspoiled beauty. I wanted to see the vanilla plantation, but instead, I got appendicitis!

If you’re familiar with the Seychelles you might think that they have some highly developed heath care system to deal with the rich foreigners who cavort at their resorts.
Maybe those resorts do have clinics on site. But if you’re not in one of those resorts you can take your chances in their Public hospital system. I got the medical helicopter ride back to Mahé.

Once in the actual hospital the surgeons were good, and the surgical ward was ok, too, except there are different rules...like, bring your own gown, and towel and sundries, and anything else you may need. This might be a problem if you’re traveling and your traveling companion cannot function responsibly.

Ah yes, this is what happened. At first I put it down to her limited English-but it wasn’t that. I had done everything on the trip, of course: booked the hotel, rented the car, driven the car, figured out where we were going, read the maps, ordered the food, etc. It wasn’t a big deal before that shit hit the fan, because I usually travel alone and I always do all that stuff anyway.

But the reality of the situation dawned on me as I tried to give her instructions before my surgery: take my passport and my money, don’t leave anything laying around the ward, call these people, or at least one of them, our tickets will have to be rebooked (the airline wouldn’t let me fly,) etc etc. And most importantly, if anything happens to me, my dear, you must deal!

I don’t want to rag on her--it was my fault for not seeing the situation clearly. She is who she is and I can’t get seriously angry. But it was a shock and I was pretty upset, through the morphine haze, because it’s just not cool to have emergency surgery in a country you’ve never been in and not have anyone to help you! She didn’t even know how to send a text message on her own phone.

The surgeon wound up extending our visas (they expired the moment our flight was scheduled!) The nurses tried to help my friend, and all to no avail. So of course I began to feel like I would die of disinterest, incompetance and neglect and I had to get right up after that surgery and start hobbling around to get us out of there and back to Oman.

Of course there were complications with the surgery--the appendix ruptured and I’ll just leave out the descriptions of that. But it’s disgusting. I got a proper appendix scar, no laproscopy for me, thank you very much.

I’ve been to Africa twice and both times I lost an organ!!
Is this normal? I think not.

The first time was after 6 weeks living rough in West Africa and my gallbladder was removed at the public hospital in Mumbai a day after I arrived--that’s Bombay Hindu Hospital. Now it’s the Seychelles and Victoria Casualty hospital.

So is the third time a charm? Or will it be a kidney? Depends on how lucky I feel I guess.

I was supposed to rest for at least a week. And I admit I’m hard to force into things; this was no exception, as I had to get us out of there. Even texts are prohibitive in the Seychelles--I had to keep asking my friends in Oman to put credit on my phone, again and again.

Etihad wouldn’t commit to a date to let me fly! So I dragged us out to the airport at 5 am and bought 2 fresh tickets to Muscat, on Qatar, not mentioning the 2 day old surgery of course. It’s only actually dangerous to fly pre-op, as the bursting organ will.......never mind. It’s too horrible and disgusting to think about and so fresh. 10 hour layover in Doha. It was just thing after thing, and never a chance to relax and rest. Finally we got to Muscat and I spent an entire day in my hotel room, wallah, but I think I needed more of it.

Back in Salalah I had only a few days before flying to America--the restaurant needs ice cream! I have visitors waiting at the Crowne and they want to see a distillation. The myrrh had to be distilled! Friends with crises, running running running and packing up everything to bring it back here to New York.

After running full bore for three and a half days in Salalah, I managed to get to the airport in plenty of time for my 1 am flight only to find that the airline had made some unfathomable mistake and not only did I not have a ticket, but I would have to buy another, and there were no seats in any case. So the flight to Muscat became an endurance test, to Muscat, to Doha, to New York, where I landed in the middle of a hailstorm.

My conscious and unconscious seem to fuse--hallucinations break in to my thoughts like when you just start to fall asleep. At last on my couch, in my house....If I’m supposed to send you something or answer an email.....I’m movin slowly wallah

Ramadan Greetings

For those of you who might not be familiar with the Holy Month of Ramadan,  it's more than just a month of fasting. Muslims (with exceptions for sick, and new mothers, and those on a journey,) abstain from food, drink, smoking, and sex from dawn to dusk and from from drinking, adultery, gossip, lies, slander, envy.........for the entire month.

The idea is spend this month being the best person you can be, which includes food and financial donations to the poor, living simply, praying a lot, and generally humbling oneself before God.

There is no equivalent to Ramadan in the western cultures that I know of. You can get an idea of the way it brings people together if you observe the fast along with everyone else and break it in the evening with your friends. If you have Muslim friends, tell them you want to fast with them for a couple of days and they will likely invite you to break the fast with them in the evenings. Guarantee the experience will surprise you. The emphasis is not on doing without--it's on doing.

Most people I know love Ramadan. Even if they lead rather dissolute lives in general, in Ramadan, people come home, spend time with their families and friends, and spend a lot of time inside themselves, meditating or thinking about God. Ramadan realigns you, helps you connect with your spiritual side. In pleasing God, one pleases oneself.

To all my Muslim and non-Muslim friends, may you have a sweet and serene Ramadan...